"That isn't fair," interrupted Stallings. "The steers put the gopher under, that day. Any of you would have gone down with a mob of cows piling on top of you." "The river is near the church you were telling me about, isn't it?" inquired Tad of Big-foot in a low tone. Sanders nodded solemnly. Tad's eyes sparkled eagerly. He finished his breakfast rather hurriedly and rose from the table. As he walked away he met the horse wrangler bringing the day ponies. The lad quickly saddled his own mount after a lively little struggle and much squealing and bucking from the pony. Tad was eager to reach the river and get sight of the mysterious church beyond. Yet, he did not dream of the thrilling experiences that were awaiting them all at the very doors of the church of San Miguel. CHAPTER XIII CHUNKY ROPES A COWBOY "Wow! Help! Help!" The herd had been moving on for several hours, grazing comfortably along the trail, when the sudden yell startled the entire outfit. The cowboys reined in their ponies and grasped their quirts firmly, fully expecting that another stampede was before them. Instead, they saw Stacy Brown riding away from the herd, urging his pony to its best speed. Right behind him, with lowered head and elevated tail was a white muley, evidently chasing the lad. What the boy had done to thus enrage the animal no one seemed to know. However, it was as pretty a race as they had seen thus far on the drive. "Point him back! He can't hurt you!" shouted the foreman. Instead of obeying the command, Stacy brought down his quirt on the pony, causing the little animal to leap away across the plain in a straight line. The cowboys were shouting with laughter at the funny spectacle. "Somebody get after that steer!" roared the foreman. "The boy never will stop as long as the critter keeps following him, and we'll have the herd following them before we know it." "I'll go, if you wish," said Tad Butler. "Then go ahead. Got your rope?" "Yes." "It'll be good practice for you." Tad was off like a shot, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. "That boy's got the making of a great cowpuncher in him," said the foreman, nodding his head approvingly. Tad's pony was the swifter of the two, and besides, he was riding on an oblique line toward the runaway outfit. It was the first opportunity the lad had had to show off his skill as a cowman, for none had seen his pointing of the herd on the night of the stampede. He was burning with impatience to get within roping distance of the steer before they got so far away that the cowmen would be unable to see the performance. "Pull up and turn him, Chunky," called Tad. "I can't." "Why not? Turn in a half circle, then I shall be able to catch up with you sooner." "Can't. The muley won't stop long enough for me to turn around."